Polly stepped to Allen's side, and, laying her head on his shoulder, said: "Ain't I?" Allen patted the girl's head. He was very fond of her, looking upon her as another daughter. Polly smiled back into his face, and then, with a glance at the cowboys, said: "Say, Uncle Jim, there's some bottles to be opened." The invitation was an indirect one, but all knew what it meant, and started for the house. "Root-beer," added Polly mischievously; "the corks pull awful hard." Allen glanced at her in feigned alarm. "What do you want to do--stampede the bunch?" Before she could answer, the approach of a horse attracted the attention of the group. "There's Jack, now!" cried Sage-brush, in tones which plainly showed his relief; "no, it ain't," he added reflectively, "he rode his pacin' mare, and that's a trottin' horse." The cry of the rider was heard quieting his mount. Allen recognized the voice. "It's Slim Hoover," he cried. Polly clapped her hands, and said mischievously to Sage-brush: "Now you'll see me makin' goo-goo eyes to somebody besides Bud Lane. I ain't a-going to be the only girl in Pinal County Slim Hoover ain't set up to." "An' shied off from," added Sage-brush, a little nettled by Polly's overlooking him as a subject for flirtation. "But what's Slim doin' over this way?" "Come to Jack's weddin', of course," replied Polly, adding complacently: "And probably projectin' a hitch-up of his own." Slim ran around the corner of the house directly into the crowd, who seized him before he could recover from his surprise, and proceeded to haze him, to their intense delight and the Sheriff's embarrassment, for he knew that Polly was somewhere near, enjoying his discomfiture. Polly waited until her victim was fully ready for her particular form of torture. The reception of the cowboys was crude to her refined form of making the fat Sheriff uncomfortable. With the velvety cruelty of a flirt she held out her hand, saying: "Hello, Slim." The Sheriff flushed under his tan. The red crept up the back of his neck to his ears. He awkwardly took off his hat. With a bow and a scrape he greeted her: "Howdy, Miss Polly, howdy." Meantime he shook her hand until she winced from the heartiness of the grip. "What's the news?" she asked, as she slowly straightened out her fingers one by one. "There's been a killin' over Florence way," announced the Sheriff, putting on his hat and becoming an officer of the law with duty to perform. "Who is the misfortunate?" asked Sage-brush, as they gathered about Hoover and listened intently.